Mother Hen
by redwolfbane
Summary: Set when Sam is at Stanford before the show, Supernatural, starts. Sam is sick and starts remembering his past... Happy National Sibling's Day!:)


When was the last time he'd seen the face?

Two years seems far longer than it is in reality.

A dry hacking coughs rip from his throat and he rolls on his side, barely forcing air into his lungs only to be smothered with a violent cough.

The fits subside for a minute and he lays on his back, breaths slow and controlled trying to subdue the inevitable fit that will ensue.

He closes his eyes and a memory hits full force.

"_Sammy!" The older boy enters the motel, running to his brother's bed side as Sam coughs, blood running from his nose._

"_Dammit! Why didn't you call?" _

_Chest heaving with labored breath, the twelve-year-old gazes up pitifully at his older brother. "It's just a cold, Dean."_

Coughs once again seize the man's body and he shakes with each breath.

"Just a cold…" He mutters, trying to lift his head in search of his water, but only falling back on the pillow with each attempt.

Jessica is out of town, and here, sick, in the Stanford University, Sam feels more alone than ever before.

_A cool hand presses against the pale boy's forehead. _

"_You're burning up, Sammy." Dean murmurs before turning and rummaging around in bags. Straightening to walk back to his sick little brother, he unscrews a pill bottle and hands the three white pills to Sam._

_The younger boy shifts under the blankets before feebly extending a hand to receive his medication. _

"_Are you sure I should take three? Dad always gives me one." His voice is scratchy and strained as he eye's his older brother skeptically. _

_Shrugging it off lightly, Dean thrusts his hands into the pockets of his oversized leather jacket. "You've got a fever, they'll help. Now shut up and take the meds."_

Groaning with the effort off moving his sore body, Sam searches the nightstand for the Tylenol with half opened eyelids.

The taste of warm blood in his mouth make him gag and cough again sending blood on the white sheets.

Stumbling out of bed he extends his search to the floor and surrounding areas for the pill bottle. Shaky hand grasping the bottle, he tries to stand from his crouched position, but his head throbs in protest and with a yell he falls.

"_What are you doing out of bead!?" the yell is harsh as the nineteen-year-old notices his brother stumbling from bed. _

"_I-I just wanted water, Dean." The boy mutters cringing as the older stalks towards him. _

"_Moron, you could have said so! Get back in bed, kid." Dean snaps, half lifting half carrying the limp boy back to the bed and tucking the covers affectingly up to his brother's chin all the while maintaining a scowl. _

_He leaves only to return presently with his own coffee mug full of water._

_Sam croaks a "thank you" before taking it. Coughing seizes him again, and he doubles over spilling the water on his care taker. _

_Through tattered breaths he gasps "I'm sorry."_

_Dean doesn't reply as he sets the mug on the night stand and sighs._

The water slips through sweaty hands.

"Dammit!" Sam rasps, more from frustration then loss – he wishes the memories would leave him alone.

He swallows the five Tylenol dry, prompting another wretched episode of coughs. His head spins as he tries to stand again – and again, he fails.

Hands ball to fists as he grits his teeth. Clenching the edge of the bed with white knuckles, he finally pulls himself up.

Lying flat on his back and gazing at the ceiling, there is respite for a second. But the blood is sour in his mouth and another cough makes him roll on his side gasping for air.

His hands spaz as he manages to pull the blankets over his shaking frame – it's cold now.

"_M'cold." Sam says through chattering teeth. The mother hen strips the other bed of its blankets and piles them on top of his brother before sitting down and wrapping a protective wing around the boy. _

_Sam snuggles closer, head resting on the safe, warm chest. Breathing becomes easier and to Dean's relief the rise and fall of his brother's chest evens out and slows to peaceful sleep. _

_He closes his eyes and leans back against the head board, feeling his own fever heighten. He's going to cough, but swallows it for fear of waking Sam and alerting his brother to his own ailment. _

_He thinks about leaving, but the small body presses closer and whispers in a rasped breath._

"_Thanks, Dean." _

_The older brother can't help but smile._

The blanket's offer no warmth and the coughing won't stop. Blinking twice, Sam tries to banish the memories and sleep, but the cold is definite.

He shivers into more coughs and blood pounds in his temples – head screaming for relief. The dark of the room is overwhelming and he finds himself seeing his older brother standing by the door or at the window only to disappear with a blink of his eyes.

"Dean…" he mutters, but it does no use, the image is gone and he is alone again. He knows not what else to do as he murmurs his brother's name until he is overcome by a fitful restless sleep – alone and missing the mother hen.


End file.
